Let It Rain
by irishileana
Summary: A new mother and her husband soothe their baby in the midst of a storm. Songfic for another site. The song is MLK by U2.


Author's Note: I was torn on this one

Author's Note: I was torn on this one. Part of me really, really wanted to write this. Part of me didn't think it would fit. But I've decided I'll make it fit. This story is dedicated to my friend Allison, who gave birth to Adrienne Marie on June 25, 2008.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry, Ginny, or their children. Also, I don't own the song, which is MLK by U2 (although in my mind I'm imagining another group singing it). Yes, I realize that song was written for Martin Luther King, but I just know that this will be the song I sing to my baby at night.

_Sleep,_

_Sleep tonight,_

_And may your dreams_

_Be realized._

He was so beautiful.

It couldn't be possible. Ginny stared into her new son's eyes, wondering if it were all a dream. Just a few hours ago, this tiny being in her arms had broken through into a new, wide world. And somehow, she'd helped him along the way. Little James' face, already filled with wonder and mischief, was somehow still soft and gentle here in the raging hours of a storm. Even when that face reddened, stretching into screams of infancy, he was still the most beautiful person she had ever seen. It could not be possible.

_If the thundercloud_

_Passes rain,_

_So let it rain_

_Down on him._

"Ginny."

The new mother turned around and smiled at her dishevelled husband. He bore the signs of having just been through a terrible ordeal: dark shadows under his half-closed green eyes, hair if possible messier than ever, and the pale etchings of not quite vanished worry. She knew she couldn't look any better, considering she'd been through a whole lot more than him. But there was something almost—almost—as lovely as her child in the expression on Harry's face. He looked like a father.

"Is he still awake?"

Ginny nodded, smirking a bit as James let out another screech. "Obviously. I can't imagine the storm's helping. All that noise and light always terrified me when I was small."

Harry grinned at her. "You're kidding. Something the Great Ginevra was actually afraid of? I wouldn't have thought it possible."

The woman glared at him with a look so dangerous, so reminiscent of her mother, that he actually took a step back. But the eyes of fury soon became teasing, and she laughed, examining his look of unmistakable apprehension. He relaxed.

"Really, though." Harry sat down beside his wife, kissing her on the forehead. "I don't know what's so frightening about it. I think it's kind of soothing."

_So let it be._

_So let it be._

"It's amazing, isn't it? I never thought we could reach this place." Harry sighed, watching Ginny pat James on the back, rocking him back and forth. "Well, I knew you would, but I'm surprised I didn't croak at about age one."

"I'm glad you didn't." Ginny smiled, passing the child to her husband, who seemed even more taken aback by this move than by the fact of his own existence. "Because if you had, I would have never been able to get here."

There was silence, save for James' fussing and the pounding of rain, the occasional clap of thunder, outside. Harry tried to soothe his son with the singing of "Odo the Hero", but, oddly enough, this only aggravated the child further, and the decibel of shrieking rose considerably. With an appraising look, Ginny relieved Harry of the baby and began to sing a soft lullaby into his ear, waiting patiently for the boy to drift off.

Sleep,  
Sleep tonight,  
And may your dreams  
Be realized.

Harry kissed his wife's hair gently, sensing that something needed to be said, something they'd not had a chance to discuss and should be mentioned now, in the hours of early morning, when all that lay between them was her soft crooning.

"He'll have a normal life," Harry realized. He didn't even know he'd said it aloud until he deciphered Ginny's inquisitive look. "Well, it's true. He'll get to be free and live the life none of us—especially me—ever could. He won't be accused of mass-murder at school, people won't think him a pathological liar. He won't be threatened by the most evil wizard of all time. He'll get to be a kid."

"He'll be Harry Potter's son," Ginny pointed out, pausing in her song. "People will always know the name James Sirius Potter, just as they know yours. He's almost as famous as you are already."

Harry chuckled softly. "I know. But he'll have his own path, be his own person. He'll have dreams, big dreams, and I just know he'll achieve them."

He fell quiet again as Ginny resumed singing. Closing his eyes, Harry let the exhaustion wash over him, the way it had been threatening to do all day. Ginny's song flowed through his ears and into, it seemed, his soul, the way the phoenix's song always had. The music was not commanding, but it inspired him, brought forth all the emotions he had been feeling to the surface. He was embarrassed to wipe away tears in front of his wife, but she only nodded in understanding and wrapped her unoccupied arm around his waist, laying her head onto his chest.

"James," Harry began, addressing his child for the very first time. "I promise you, I will help you make you dreams into reality. I will always, always be there. Even when the time comes for me to leave this world, even in the dark hours when you think you will never see me again, just know that I will be there."

Ginny glanced up into her spouse's face, eyes curious. His emerald ones were enough of an answer, and she nodded once more. She then noticed something.

"Harry . . . Harry, he's stopped crying."

And indeed, James' mouth was closed, his face relaxed. Looking positively cherubic, his bright eyes were shut, his breathing slower and more steady. Tears no longer ran down his soft face. He had fallen asleep.

She laid him carefully in his blue bassinet, gazing with wonder at his sudden peace as the sun broke through the sky and the rain slowed, pattering gently on the ground below. She buried herself in Harry's embrace and finally allowed herself to cry, relieving the fear of earlier from herself and letting happiness overcome her. Harry held her tight, knowing, at last discovering how women could cry and embrace at the same time.

If the thundercloud  
Passes rain,  
So let it rain,  
Let it rain,  
Rain on him.

He was so beautiful.


End file.
